


Date Night

by WitchOfTheWestCountry



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), My Bloody Valentine (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 19:45:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14654880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: A little drabble I wrote for a friend





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittenmoon21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmoon21/gifts).



She felt a little tipsy, but it was the good kind of tipsy, the kind where she felt motivated and ambitious, able to do anything.

The thing she most wanted to do, though, was sat right next to her, driving.

Nate was safe with his grandmother, Lani had a sufficient amount of booze in her system, and it was Date Night.

She leaned over, put her hand on Jack’s knee.

He took his concentration off the road long enough to give her a grin, the creases on his face shifting in a way that was wholly pleasant to her. She knew his face so well now, and it was an  ordnance survey map of lines and gradients she kept in her head at all times, but the topography always had the ability to change and surprise her, show her an entire atlas of places she'd never visited.

She'd made an effort for the occasion, this rare night of Romance with a capital R: She knew her best points and liked to embellish them for his pleasure.

Her eyes - he loved her eyes. He'd always told her that if eyes were the window to the soul, hers would be triple-bifold glass patio doors, open and clear and huge, so she outlined them in black, made them even bigger, a counterpoint to the heart-shaped elfin-like features of her face.

Her legs - what she lacked in other departments she made up for leg-wise. Short skirts and high heels were the way to go, and the sight of her in a little flowery shift dress and killer heels made Jack  _ weak _ . He'd told her as much and she exploited it shamelessly.

She watched him drive, loving his confident gear-changes, the tense in his thigh muscles as he pressed the clutch. His big rough hands on the gearstick.

She was horny now, wanting nothing more than to pull over into a lay by and fuck him against the steering wheel, straddled over his lap, rather than go to whatever fancy restaurant he was taking her to.

She looked out of the car window in a pleasantly bleary haze, her clouded mind taking in the dark hedgerows and light-less roads.

“Jack….?” she asked plaintively.

“What, honey?”

“This isn't the way to town….I thought we were going to that restaurant.”

“Yeah, well, there's been a change o’ plan. Hope you don't mind.”

She peered out of the window again. The landscape that she could see was Spartan and scant of feature, wide open fields with the occasional dotted building.

There was a tingle in her belly now, not fear but excitement and a little trepidation.

“Where are we going, Jack?”

“You'll see….”

She sat up in her seat, her breath fogging the window. It was getting black out there, a wilderness of mystery.

“But where are we  _ going _ ?”

He chuckled. It was a sound she could never have described but suited him immaculately. A warm, Santa-Clausy laugh that nobody else could ever replicate without being corny.

“Be patient, Honey. I promise you won't be disappointed…”

His voice trailed off like he was uncertain and she wanted to reassure him. Mystery and danger were so attractive to her that even if the end result had been a picnic in a park, the build up would have been enough in itself.

She sat back, a pleasurable little shiver running through her.

It seemed an endless time before he finally pulled over next to the shadowed hulk of a huge, decrepit building. He seemed even more uncertain than before, big hand rubbing the back of his head, almost bashful.

“I, uh, put a lot o’ thought into this, honey,” he told her. “I know what kind o’ things you like but it's possible I overstepped the mark on this one. If so, I apologise, but I just wanted to -”

“Where are we?”

She interrupted him because she had to. She was far too excited. He sighed.

“It's an old lunatic asylum. Been abandoned for a long, long time. There's rumours that there's some kind o’ murderer roamin’ around it - one o’ the old patients, lookin’ for revenge. Stories say he was a miner, trapped durin’ a cave-in, wasn't found for days. Had to survive on the meat o’ his dead friend's bodies. When they rescued him, he was delirious. Rantin’ about Underground Spirits. They put him in here an’ he was badly mistreated. Gave him electroshock therapy,  ice-cold baths. Beat him. Tried to make him sane that way. Didn't work. He went missin’. Escaped, they reckon. An’ he's been lookin’ for justice ever since. Lookin’ for the wife that he left behind who went off with another man whilst he was indisposed. Looked a lot like you, they say - a beautiful young thing with big eyes and long legs. Little bitty thing, no more than a handful for a big man. I'll understand if you don't wanna go in there, but -”

She was already unbuckling her seat belt, pushing open the car door.

“I want to see!” she said. “Jack, come with me! This is the best date night ever….”

 

He indulged her,  like he always did. Strapped his headlight over his balding head whilst she jiggled impatiently beside him, clinging onto his arm in a welter of excitement.

“You better stick close to me,” he cautioned as he handed her a flashlight. “This place is condemned. Access restricted. We really shouldn't be here - it ain't safe!”

“Jack, that only makes me want to explore more,” she complained. “You know that's not going to put me off.”

“Yeah, I know. No tellin’ you.”

He snapped on his head light, casting a subdued glow in an irregular circle in front of them.

“If we get separated, you just stay put an’  wait for me to find you. I mean it. You hear me?”

“Yes, Jack,” she said absently.

“Okay.  Let's go in there.”

 

The floors were covered with debris, not stuff that you'd expect to find in an old asylum but stuff that homeless people and wandering teens had left there: Beer cans,  deflated condoms looking like snake skins, broken syringes, stained underwear. Every discovery she hit with her heeled foot only innervated Lani more.

She was out of place in this world, her makeup immaculate in the sordid surroundings, her shoes clopping on the concrete floor, but she felt more at home here than she'd ever felt. The air was misty, hung with a million dust motes that clouded her vision, and she imagined a cold damp fog that would only make the location more perfect.

“This is where they processed them,” said Jack in a low voice, wary of listening spirits. “Walked them in here stark naked, covered in louse powder. Maybe I'm thinkin’ o’ Shawshank Redemption,  though…”

Lani giggled,  holding onto the strong arm next to her for dear life. It was beautiful here, a romantic indolence hanging over the place that their modern technology couldn't pierce. If there were ghosts there she would welcome them, as long as the spirits would include her beloved Jack. A gang bang with her boyfriend and a thousand horny spirits would be bliss….

“This here was hydrotherapy,” said Jack. “They'd put those unfortunate folk in ice cold tubs full o’ water, and you could hear the drummin’ of their feet as they struggled in them. Terrible.”

“Mmmm. Terrible,” agreed Lani, craning her neck to look at the bathtubs.

They moved on. Lani’s pussy was getting wetter the further they explored, and she was wary of letting Jack know just how much it affected her. She was scared that if he knew the full extent of her obsession he'd be horrified, but he couldn't have chosen a better place to woo her.

They entered a wide open area, her heels clattering and echoing. 

“This place was very special,” confided Jack.  “An’ the worst. It was here that they -”

He stopped. Crooked his head against his shoulder. 

“Did ya hear that?” he asked.

Lani listened. She could hear nothing apart from the gust of her own rapid breathing, the pound of her heart.

“What? No! I didn't hear anything!”

Jack gently extricated his arm from hers.

“Thought I heard somethin’,” he said. “Just off the side there. Footsteps. You sure you didn't hear?”

“I didn't hear anything, Jack.”

He held up his hand, hushing her.

“Sshh,  honey. Listen….”

She sssh-ed. She still couldn't hear anything, but her pulse quickened all the same.

Jack turned to her, face grave. 

“I swear I can hear somethin’. Look, I'm gonna go investigate. I ain't happy. I wanna make sure nobody's sneakin’ around. You wait here, sweetie. Just stay put. God, I wish I'd never brought you here….”

“Don't say that! Please, Jack - it's lovely. You go and look if it will make you feel better. I'm sure it's nothing…”

He patted her arm, his expression strained.

“I won't be long. Just….stay put.”

She was obedient when she wanted to be, and clutched her flashlight as he disappeared into the darkness, the broad spread of his back receding with his head-light. She wasn't frightened, though she should have been: She had total confidence in her boyfriend.

Time stretched out. Still she waited in her little sphere of light, listening to the sounds of the abandoned building: Struts creaking against each other; the sigh of the breeze through the glassless windows. She began to get nervous, her light wavering and flickering.

It seemed like a lifetime, but it couldn't have been more than 5 minutes. She heard Jack returning, heavy footsteps resounding in the still space.

“Jack! Thank god. Did you find anyone?”

She hoped he hadn't: She didn't want anyone intruding on their moment.

He didn't respond, and she felt the first stirrings of anxiety.

“Jack? Answer me!”

Still the footsteps went on, and she turned off her flashlight, obeying some hitherto hidden aspect of common sense that told her Something Wasn't Right.

She found a handy pillar and cowered behind it, bidding herself into silence, but she couldn't stop herself from peeking out to see who it was descending upon her.

He was a big man, broad across, wearing an overall of black cloth. His way was displayed through the light of his helmet, a beam that shone from his forehead. He carried a pickaxe between his two hands, a twitching tool that became a weapon in his grasp, and she shuddered at the knowledge of what it could inflict.

She pulled back out of sight, heart hammering. The light from his helmet cast a yellow glow that spanned her surroundings, raking through the darkness. He tilted his head as if sniffing the air and she shrank into herself in response.

He stalked forward a few steps. His bearing was proud and bold, a combination that had always been irresistible to her. It made her quiver.

Feeling conflicted she hugged her flashlight to her chest, praying for Jack to return and rescue her from herself.

A noise came from behind her and she couldn't help but look. He wore a gas-mask, outdated but functional, and his breathing came in harsh rasps.

He was getting closer to where she hid and he would find her soon.

With nobody to save her, she panicked.

Lani broke from her cover, trying to avoid the prying gleam of his helmet lamp, but at the sound of her scurrying footsteps the mask turned to follow her progress.  She squealed as mellow light glanced off her legs, catching a flash of her bare calves.

He grunted, a feral sound that lit her up better than his torch could, and she stumbled over her own feet, legs crumbling beneath her. Her chest hit the ground and she crawled where she fell, fingernails scraping the cement.

Her flashlight rolled away from her at the same moment she felt strong hands on her ankles, a rubbery grip encircling the bones. He pulled her backwards,  her hands flailing helplessly, snapping back off the floor.

“Jack!” she wailed in a last-bid attempt for help, but the heat between her legs couldn't be denied.

She gave up then under the relentless trawl. Let him haul her back.

He flipped her over onto her back, and stood looking down at her. She could feel his greedy eyes from behind the mask, burning her with lecherous heat as they roamed her body.

Her face was hot, her mouth dry. He'd dropped his pickaxe in order to chase her down but now he retrieved it, hefting it with a thoughtful tilt of his head.

“Are you him?” she asked. “Are you the miner?”

He nodded slowly.

“Ah. You're looking for your wife. I'm not her, you know. I might look like her, but I'm not.”

He shook his head, denying her claim, and she took a deep breath..

“Please don't hurt me!” she moaned. “I have a son! He's only 4, and he relies on me….”

He shook his head again, implying that he wouldn't hurt her, but the pickaxe twitched in his hands in a way that belied his promise.

Cautiously, she bent her legs, bracing her feet against the floor. Her high heels were a hindrance that she wanted to kick off but she didn't want him to guess her intent.

He was distracted, though, by the way her dress slid up her thighs from her action, staring between her legs at the shadowed area under her dress.

She wore black lace panties tonight, a treat for Jack. She loved his big hands peeling the tiny scrap of nylon off her. They looked so delicate and flimsy in contrast to his large, rough fingers.

She let her knees fall open a little, giving him more to look at, and he craned his head forward, staring.

“Do you like that? You can look all you want,” she said, putting a flirtatious little lilt in her voice.

He bent at the waist, peering eagerly up her skirt. There was something happening beneath the belt that cinched his overalls - a movement that betrayed his interest.

She watched his hard-on grow, tenting out the thick cloth, pushing its head towards her.

She closed her eyes, tried not to get distracted. Counted she 10. She opened her eyes again.

The pickaxe drooped in his left hand; his right hand was busy in front of him, rubbing at the thick ridge outlined under his overalls.

She tensed her body, leg muscles tightening. His mask was directed under the hem of her dress, shoulders hunched in concentration,  and she took her chance.

She pushed herself backwards, getting her elbows beneath her, levering her upper body off the floor.

He flinched at her movement, the blank visage of his mask somehow conveying confusion. He whipped his hand away from his dick, swinging it round to grasp the pickaxe handle. Lani squealed, raising herself up, ass skidding on the cement.

Her arm collapsed underneath her, ulnar nerve hitting the ground and paralysing the entire limb. The huge figure in front of her gave a muffled roar,  cocking his pickaxe back over his shoulder.

Thrashing helplessly, thrown off balance,  Lani watched it swing as if in slow motion, a scream erupting from her throat.

The pick landed with a huge clatter, splintering the hard ground by her hip, piercing her dress and pinning it. Little stone shards flew up, nicking her skin.

She tugged at the cloth holding her in place, gripping it with both hands, hearing it tear, but he dropped heavily to his knees, slapping her hands away. He was shaking his head, and one gloved hand pressed against her breastbone, pushing her onto her back.

Lani froze at the contact. His hand was huge, spanning her chest, grazing the points of her nipples that had stiffened with fear. He made a grunting sound, shuffling forward on his knees, getting up closer to her.

Lani lay back, surrendering, listening to the huffs and puffs of his excited breathing. She felt calm now, accepting her fate, gazing up at the lofty ceiling way above her with its exposed struts and tangles of cobwebs.

His hand was moving on her chest, clumsy caresses that pinched her breasts, the dense rubber of his gloves squeaking. He was between her knees, the breadth of his hips pushing her legs apart, and she opened them obligingly.

“Yes, you’ve got me now,” she whispered. “You caught me. You can do whatever you want….”

He made a noise that could have been a laugh. She had no doubt he intended to do so anyway.

He pushed her dress up, thin fabric skimming over her skin until it was up to her waist. The air was cold and perfect, lifting goosebumps on her skin and she watched the dust motes dance in the beam from his helmet.

Cold rubber grazed the inside of her thigh and a blunt finger jabbed against the crotch of her underwear. She gasped at the touch, rough enough to force its way through the haze she floated in. A crooked knuckle prodded at her through the lace, finding its way between her pussy lips and probing her clit. Lani sighed happily.

Her captor growled, tried to get his fingers beneath the elastic of the waistband, but he was having trouble with the gloves. She watched his struggles with interest, his frustration obvious, but just as she was about to take pity on him and help he managed to tweeze the flimsy fabric between his fingers.

He peeled them off, taking his time, pulling them down over her hips and along her legs. The floor was freezing under her bare ass, little bits of grit poking into her, but it might have been the softest bed she lay on, such was her bliss.

Her knickers got caught on her heels as he fought to untangle them from her ankles, and she couldn’t help but giggle a little, but the sound choked in her throat when he tossed them aside and put his hands on the insides of her legs, pushing them apart with an eager roughness.

Her exposure was greater in these surroundings than it would have been anywhere else, and she was bared to whoever or whatever roamed these abandoned rooms. Lani imagined a mob of lost souls, invisible to her, crowding around to watch more entertainment than they’d seen in years, and the mental image made her moan.

A rubbered finger found her pussy and delved in, the introduction shocking to her, and she flinched despite the stab of pleasure it produced. He pushed the intruder in further, swivelling it like he was coring her, and she twisted on it, writhing her hips on the dirty floor.

He pulled the finger out and held it up in the light from his headlamp, and she could see the sticky wetness on it gleaming. She should have been ashamed, she thought, at how aroused she was but she could find no chagrin in her.

She smiled up at him woozily.

“Yes, I’m all ready,” she said. “I’ve been ready for a while now….”

Wasting no more time he raised himself up onto his knees so she could see as he unfastened the front of his overall under his belt. He undid a few buttons, reaching inside, and brought out a huge stiff cock, the head purple with blood, the veins straining on the shaft. The tip was as wet as she was, and he brandished it in her direction.

She wanted to sit up and touch it, feel the hot meat in her fingers, but he was too impatient, pushing the head up to her crotch, guiding it in with his fist. She bit down on her lip as he stabbed into her, stretching her wide, and there was an unmistakable squelch as he eased in.

Once he was firmly seated he let go of his cock, grabbing her by her hip bones, pulling her onto him. She gasped at the sudden rush, and she was filled in an instant, the coarse cloth of his overalls rasping against her skin. He started to fuck her in short, brutal shunts, slamming into her desperately. She let her head fall back, let him batter her. She groped between her legs to find her clit but before she could touch it his hand was there, blocking her way, cold slick smoothness bruising her. He thumbed her clit fervently as he humped her into the ground, ferocious thrusts that rocked her entire body. He was making noises that sounded distant behind his mask, harsh grunts and barks.

Lani lifted her legs and wrapped them round him, pulling him deeper in. Her orgasm hit her in a blinding rush as if it had been waiting around a corner, ambushing her so suddenly she was unable to make a sound, her mouth gaping in a silent scream. He was shaking above her, racing towards the finishing line, burying himself up to the hilt in a final, anugished shove. She felt his spunk fill her, the heat scalding, and he fell forward onto her, helmet crashing against her chest. She could feel his rapid breathing shuddering through him, and put a hand up to his shoulder in wordless sympathy.

“Shit…” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to finish so quick. Sorry, Honey.”

 

She brushed dirt from her ass, retrieved her underwear as Jack wearily undid his overalls. The helmet lay on the ground nearby, and it had left his face shiny with sweat, his hair damp and mussed.

“What point did you know it was me?” he asked.

“Right away,” she laughed. “You got me all ready with that story about the miner, so when he showed up, I knew. But it was still scary though - that tiny bit of doubt. I loved it.”

Jack grinned at her, smoothing his hair down, fishing his glasses from his pocket.

“I hoped I wouldn’t scare you too much,” he said. “Though I know you like being frightened. Thing I was most worried about was you bein’ angry, or laughin’ at me. Was kinda nervous, you know.”

“And don’t think I don’t appreciate it,” she said. “But just so you know - it was perfect! The chase, the take down...the fucking.”

She sighed.

“Better than a fancy restaurant. Next time, though, don’t let me wear my best dress. I don’t think I’ll be able to fix it.”

“Aw, honey. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll buy you ten new dresses! Come on, now - we’d better get back to the car before someone catches us trespassin’.”

She took his hand as they walked out into the night. The wind had picked up, whipping her torn dress around her knees, and as they climbed into the car she decided not to let him know about the hooded figure she’d seen, spying on them from the shadows. If she told him, he might never bring her back.


End file.
